


The Way Out is In Me

by likethefoximalwayschanging



Category: Motherland: Fort Salem (TV)
Genre: 6L, ALL THE FLUFF, BDSM, Breathplay, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Llllll, Raelle is so soft, Raelle/Scylla/Tally Throuple FOR THE WIN, Scylla is not as good an actress as she thinks she is, an alternate/ continuation of THAT scene, the way out is in
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:33:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 17,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23996809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likethefoximalwayschanging/pseuds/likethefoximalwayschanging
Summary: A slightly alternate/continuation of Raylla's sex scene from 1x01. You know the one. The way out is IN.
Relationships: Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn, Raelle Collar/Scylla Ramshorn/Tally Craven, Raelle Collar/Tally Craven, Raylla - Relationship, Tally Craven/Scylla Ramshorn, rally - Relationship
Comments: 82
Kudos: 420





	1. Chapter 1

I’m not sure what she’s doing, so I hold back at first. 

I watch her fluff her dark hair in the mirror, shaking it out slowly like a civilian in a shampoo commercial. Her hands flutter around her face like bird wings--she’s nervous, but she’s doing an A-list actress’s job of hiding it. 

She almost got me. I almost bought her whole “smug and aloof” act. 

But I’ve had my eyes on this girl every second since she invited me back to her room, and when she thinks I’m not paying attention, she sneaks a look at me. This anxious sort of look, like maybe she really is an actress, and she’s got to make sure the audience is laughing at all the right parts.

Even now, she cuts her eyes to me in the mirror, where I turn the ring on my right hand, over and over, and pretend to be lost in thought. I have done this so many times in the year since Mama died, twirl this ring, pop it on and off my finger, twirl it again. It calms me. 

I think that Scylla calms me too. Because all night the crippling grief that usually churns in my gut day and night has quieted. It’s like she gave me a Valium along with the salva; tonight, my mind drifts from one thought to the next with syropy slowness, like Scylla has turned the world down to half-speed. 

Finally I ask her, “Why salva?”

She turns to smile at me. “Because I couldn’t get any pot.” 

I laugh, like she wants me to. But I say, “Liar,” and she walks over to me until she’s only a foot or so away, but then she stops. So many emotions pass over her face, but I think I see something like hope in the mix. 

I want to hold her face, and run my fingers through her still-damp hair from our (separate) showers, but I don’t know for sure that she wants that. 

I’ve played this game before, with girls from Chippewa Cession. Girls who thought they wanted me,  _ acted _ like they wanted me, made me believe it, only to bolt when I finally gave in and kissed them.

Here at Fort Salem no one seems to care that I like girls, but home was a different story. Many of the elders in the Cession looked disdainfully on me for being a lesbian, or at least being so vocal about it. Many of my classmates and their parents also tried to keep me quiet, “Just keep it to yourself, Sweetheart. Not everyone is understanding of that stuff yet.” 

Mama and Dad were never like that--when she was home, Mom always encouraged me to question the elders, to question everything, really. And Dad loves that I have no interest in guys; he told every one of my healing clients that he can’t wait until I get married, because he always wanted two daughters. 

“Liar,” I say again to Scylla. If I keep saying it, maybe she’ll keep getting closer. 

It works. Scylla moves up into my space. Her eyes are such a sharp blue that it almost hurts to look at them. Like they might cut me if I stare into them for too long. 

She smells clean and warm, like clothes fresh from the dryer. Her breath reaches my face, warm and intimate, smelling of cinnamon from her toothpaste. Our breaths mingle in the inches between us. 

She’s waiting to see what I’ll do next, but I’m waiting too. I want desperately for her to like me as much as I think she does, so I’m not going to push it. She’s been chasing me all night, this girl, even though she seems conflicted about it. 

I don’t want her to be conflicted. 

I’m not conflicted. 

Scylla is one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. There’s so much to appreciate--the kind, open features of her delicate face, at odds with the tension in her shoulders and the nervous twitch of her hands. The hypnotic cadence of her voice. The way she looks at me like it would take Quartermaine physically dragging her away to break her gaze. 

If she keeps looking at me like that, I’ll never be able to turn away either. 

But I have rules. If Scylla wants to make this more than a friendship thing, she’ll have to initiate it. 

“Do you want to die?” she asks me. Her breath warms my lips. 

Surely, she must be referring to my stellar shit-bird impression. 

Honestly, I’m not sure if I want to die or not. I thought I did, but now, suddenly, I’m not so sure. 

“Maybe,” I say. Better a quick death than the long, ceaseless battle of a soldier’s life. 

“Your plan is hot garbage,” Scylla says. A hint of real anger creeps into her voice. “Even if it works, it’s winning by  _ losing _ .” 

Scylla’s proximity distracts me. I can’t concentrate. “Well, I hate to break it to you, Beautiful, ‘cause there’s no way out,” I say. 

“I know a way.” Then Scylla kisses me. She puts a lot into it, but I put in more. 

She backs off a little, like maybe my intensity scared her. I almost think I blew it, when she puts her arms around my neck and says, “please,” in a needy voice, and inwardly I rejoice. Scylla kissed  _ me _ . I believe in my foolish heart that she isn’t going to bolt. 

So I kiss her this time. My hands fly up to cradle her head, as they have been aching to do since I met her. Scylla’s hands burn, hot on my bare shoulders. It’s more than I could have hoped for. 

I want more. 

Next thing I know, Scylla’s back slams into the wall next to her mirror, and we kiss like we’ve done it a thousand times before. She gasps into my mouth. 

To me, the air is only good if I’m breathing it through Scylla’s mouth. 

She’s soft and yielding beneath me, lets me move her where I want her, and doesn’t protest when I unbuckle her belt, slip my hand into her with no hesitation. She only takes a ragged breath and looks at me with big, glazed eyes. 

“Tell me,” I say. Inside of Scylla is soft and silken, warm and welcoming. She mewls into my ear, flails a little bit, begins to rock into my hand. 

She whispers to me to let the army train me, let them make me powerful. Right now, nothing feels like it could be more powerful than this--me and Scylla coming together, and her, coming undone. 

“The way over is under,” she gets out while I mouth at her neck. She’s persistent, still trying to talk when she’s gasping after every word. 

“Okay,” I encourage her. My eyes fall from her eyes to her mouth, then back again. I think I know where she's going with this. 

“The way over,” she begins, “is…” She can’t finish. Her eyes close, and every muscle in her body tightens up taut like guitar strings. 

“Is in,” I say for her. She rests her forehead against mine, meek as a lamb as she constricts around my fingers. I grab her wrist with my free hand and force hers up over our heads--Scylla hasn’t stopped flailing it since I started. 

She kisses my collarbone gently as she comes, every noise a hushed whisper pressed directly into my ear. Her pupils dilate, a thin ring of blue highlighting an ocean of darkness. 

I ride her out, give her as much time as she needs ‘till she’s liquid in my hands, her body slack and me mostly holding her up, the wall behind her doing the rest of the job. I push the hair out of her face, and see that Scylla is crying. 

She tries to brush the tears away, but more replace them. I peel her carefully from the wall, walk her to the bed, and sit down with my back pressed against the wall, legs hanging over the edge. “Come here,” I urge her. 

She does. She settles between my legs, her back to me, her head resting in the crook of my shoulder. I press my fingers into the muscles of her shoulders, massage the back of her neck and between her shoulder blades, squeeze the knot of tense muscles there. “Why are you crying?” I ask her. “Did I hurt you?”

Scylla laughs a bit. “No, not at all. I just...haven’t been this close to anyone in a long time, and even then…” She pauses. “You just caught me by surprise, is all.” 

Golden waves of joy and anticipation lap against me, a keen excitement that I’ve never felt with any girl before. 

“Do you trust me?” I ask her. I run a hand down her body, over her shirt and down to her belt, still undone and gaping open. Scylla trembles, vibrating like a hummingbird beneath my hands. 

“I want to,” she says. Her breaths are fast again already, almost pants. “But I...I’ve been burned before.” 

“Me too,” I tell her, though this particular feeling I’ve never felt before, this urgent voice in my head that says I have to protect this girl from anything and everything. That she’s mine to protect. 

“You don’t have to do anything,” I say. “Except for what I tell you to do.” 

Scylla presses her face into my neck, her cheeks flushed and pink and warm. “What you tell me to do?”

“Yes.” I ease her pants down inch by inch. Pull her gray t-shirt over her head and toss it to the ground, skim my hands over her chest and sides. Scylla shakes so violently that I have to make sure she’s okay. “Are you sure you’re good with this?” 

She nods against my neck. “Yes. Just nerves. Please don’t stop.”

Good enough for me. “You just do as you’re told. You don’t have to worry about anything, not if you don’t want to.” 

“I want to,” she says, “not have to worry. Just for a little while.” 

“Do you trust me?” I ask again. 

This time, Scylla nods and presses a kiss beneath my ear. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Done.” I slip my right hand around Scylla’s throat while my left eases down to caress her thigh. “Shh, shh,” I hush her as she whines. “I’ve got you.” 

I press my hand tighter around her throat, feeling her pulse beat like a jackhammer against my palm. I adjust my grip, mindful not to crush or damage anything I shouldn’t. 

Scylla licks her lips, her every breath shaky and whistling between her teeth. “I trust you,” she says. “I trust you.” 

Scylla cries out as my fingers slip back into her, slick and warm. I am attentive to her noises, but not gentle in my movements. 

I look her in her face, intently. “If you want me to stop, you say ‘apricot’, okay?”

Despite herself, Scylla chokes out a laugh. “How sexy,” she says. For a second, she reaches back for her smug facade, as though she thinks she can fool me with it. 

My fingers tighten on her throat, my left hand pumping into her. Scylla’s face contorts in her pleasure, all traces of arrogance gone. “What’s sexy,” I say, “is you feeling like you are in control of everything that happens to you when you’re with me. If you say you want something, you get it. You want to stop, I stop. You’re in control of that. Is that clear?”

“I understand.” 

I smile. “Good,” I say. “Now hold your breath.” 

I hold fast to Scylla’s throat, making sure she obeys. 

“Raelle,” Scylla gasps over and over when I let her. “Raelle.  _ Raelle _ .” I alternate pressure on her throat, releasing her consistently every ten seconds or so so she has plenty of opportunity to breathe and to say her safeword if she wants. 

She doesn’t. I tell her to breathe, and she breathes. I tell her to hold her breath, and she does. I tell her to relax, and finally, I feel her give in completely. 

With every thrust of my hand, new and interesting noises escape from her mouth. Gasps, whines, soft cries that tear at my heart. Every one of them is as precious to me as a prayer. 

When she comes the second time, Scylla screams, so I remove my hand from her throat to cover her mouth. “You’re going to wake up all of Fort Salem,” I tease her, pleased. 

She takes a long time to come back to herself, breathing deep and long now that she’s got all her airflow back. “Wow,” she says. She kisses me in a loopy, airy way.

“You okay, Scyl? Do you feel lightheaded or dizzy?”

“I’m good,” Scylla assures me. “Much better than good, actually.” 

I kiss her temple, brush a strand of damp curls away from her neck. “That’s what I was hopin’ for.” 

  
  



	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This part picks up right where the last one left off. I'm not sure exactly where I'm going with this piece, but I'm just having fun letting the characters speak to me.

A moment of quiet falls over us, interrupted only by Scylla’s breathing, still a little fast and sharp. 

I can feel her heartbeat slow as she relaxes further into me. Her scent fills my nose, sweet and potent. 

I run a hand up and down her side, barely skimming her flushed skin with my fingertips. A heavy contentment flows over me like water, and strangely, it reminds me of when I was seven years old, and Mama and Dad took me to get baptized. We went to the church where they got married, and the Pastor Noah eased me down into a pool of cool water behind the pulpit. I remember the feeling of being dipped into the pool, water rushing over my face and trickling into my nose and ears, while the church congregation held their palms out to me, a wordless tether. The weight of their faith piggybacking on mine, impossible to fight. 

Scylla’s hold on me is like that--unexpected, forceful, like a rush of connection with a higher power. Whether that higher power lies with the Abrahamic God my Mama believed in, or in the universe or even the Goddess the witches recognize, I have no idea. 

I don’t think it really matters. 

“You are so beautiful,” I tell Scylla. I can’t think of anything else to say, and I’m hypnotized by the rise and fall of her chest, the air that fills her lungs and keeps her alive.

Scylla presses her cheek into mine, nuzzling. “You are not what I expected,” she says. 

I chuckle. “You make it sound like you were waiting for me or something.” 

Scylla’s smile wavers. A trace of fear runs its course across her face. 

It’s not right. Scylla should never have to be afraid. Not when I would protect her from anything. 

I hold her tighter in response, press her face into the warmth of my neck. “Hey,” I say. I scrape my nails over her scalp, tug sharply at a piece of her hair to distract her from the dark thoughts circling in her eyes. “I’m only teasing, Scyl.” Unbidden, a touch of jealousy creeps up into me. “I have no doubt you’ve had your pick of girls your whole life. They must worship the ground you walk on.” 

I press kisses to the back of her neck, pull my hands through her hair, and don’t stop until Scylla releases a long, shuddering sigh. 

She turns in my arms and tugs at my sleeve. “I’ve actually only been with boys before,” she blurts out. “One boy, actually. It’s been a couple years now,” Scylla holds my eye, making sure to catalogue my reaction. “I’m...the inexperienced one in this equation, it seems. I hope that’s okay.” 

I smooth my thumbs over the soft, thin skin beneath her piercing blue eyes. “Was your mark dull before today?” I ask her. 

Scylla shakes her head. “No.” She turns her head and pulls her hair up so I can see the back of her neck, where her witch’s mark lies, partially covered hidden by the hair at the nape of her neck. 

Her mark is a light lavender, and shiny. “But comparing that and  _ this, _ ” Scylla gestures to the two of us, “is like comparing a matchstick to a forest fire.” She releases her hair so that it falls over her shoulders in a dark ripple. 

“I have definitely been waiting for  _ you _ ,” she says emphatically. 

She is so, so adorable. 

“Well, then your wait is over.” 

I allow my now-shy lover to press a few light kisses to my jaw before I nudge her away. I take her chin in my hand and stare into her eyes. “I’ve been with my share of girls, Scyl, I won’t lie to you. But you never, ever have to do anything with me if you’re not comfortable. We go at your speed, okay?” I pause, wondering if what I want to say next is too much, considering we’ve only known each other for a few days. I don’t want to spook her. 

I decide to say it anyway. 

“Ever since I met you the other day, out at the fence, you’re all I’ve thought about,” I admit. 

“Me too,” she whispers. 

“I’ve always been a girl who follows her gut,” I say. “And my gut tells me that I’m supposed to be with you. For a long time.” 

Scylla swallows. “I’m scared,” she says. 

I smile. “I know, I know, commitment isn’t really what you guys do here…”

“That’s not what I meant. At least, not all of it.” 

I wait, my hand loosely holding onto her throat beneath her chin. Her face tries to smooth itself into nonchalance, but her eyes give away her uncertainty. 

She maintains a poised silence, and then, “I’ve never done anything like that before.” 

I stroke my fingers through the silky hair at her neck, just above her witch’s mark. “What are you talking about, Beautiful?” 

Scylla swallows again. She’s clearly having a hard time getting the words out. “I have never given myself up to anyone like that. What you just did, what we just did. It’s… a little terrifying.” 

I pull her hand to my mouth, kiss her knuckles, then take turns kissing the tip of each of Scylla’s fingers. When I finish with the first hand, I move on to her other one. Eventually, I bring her left hand up to rest above my heart, and hold it there. 

“As long as you want me around, I won’t leave you.” 

The intensity of the words surprise even me, but I don’t regret them, and I make no move to take them back. 

Scylla shifts in my hold. She brings her hands up to frame my face, and kisses me, long and slow. Every thought in my head settles into a blissful quiet. I struggle to breathe, because Scylla won’t let me break her kiss. In one quick movement, she pushes me roughly into the wall behind her bed. She miscalculates slightly, and the back of my head thumps against the wall with a mighty thud. “Oof,” I say. “That’s one way to get my attention, Scyl.” 

Her face is red, red. “Sorry,” she says. “I have no idea what I’m doing.” 

“You’re doing perfect,” I tell her. “Really, Abigail just told me today that someone ought to knock some sense into me. You’ll be her hero.” 

“And which one is Abigail?” Scylla asks. “The cute redhead or the Bellweather?” 

I laugh. “The second one,” I say. “High Atlantic.” I struggle to concentrate as Scylla slips her hands under my shirt, grips my waist and pulls me closer. “But forget her. Tally’s going to preen for days when I tell her you called her cu--”

Scylla kisses me, and thoughts of my unit drift away, as easily as dust motes dancing in the ray of a sunbeam. 

Scylla runs her hands along my torso, and tenses when she feels the injury. I’d completely forgotten about it, the big ugly “mess” I’d taken off Jo, Dad’s neighbor, and a longtime healing client of Mama’s. 

“What’s this?” Scylla asks. She traces her fingertip over the puckered scar, so softly I can barely feel it. 

“It’s nothing,” I say. I want Scylla to keep touching me, so badly that my very bones ache from the wanting of it. “Ignore it.” 

Scylla’s eyes light with fury. “They did this to you? You haven’t been in training for a week! I know they’re speeding up basic but this is just dangerous and--”

“Scylla, stop.” I try to calm my racing heart. Try not to give in to giddy thoughts of Scylla cursing out Anacostia. “I took this off a family friend before I came here, not a big deal.” 

Scylla regards me. “You’re a natural healer,” she says, almost like she’s frustrated by the fact. “Of course you are.” 

I begin to suspect that Scylla is stalling. I won’t push her, but maybe a hint would help. Scylla’s started something in me, a low fire that’s begging for more fuel. I lift my arms and toss my shirt to the foot of her bed, leaving my chest bare. “Did you want to check me for more injuries?” I bat my eyes at her, hoping she’ll indulge me. 

Scylla’s eyebrows shoot up. She tugs on one of my belt loops. “Down here?” she asks. 

“Mmhmm.” 

She maneuvers me onto my back and unbuckles my belt with her small, determined hands. She stares and stares, before finally kissing just above my belly button, and undressing me completely.

“You are pure light,” Scylla whispers. “The brightest light I’ve ever seen.”

I have no clue what she’s talking about, but I answer her kisses with every ounce of fervor I’ve got, and respond in kind. “You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” 

Scylla snorts. 

“I mean it,” I say. “And I’ve healed every female in my old school at least once, so I’ve seen them all.” 

Scylla rolls her eyes at me. “You are quite the sweet-talker, Raelle Collar.” 

“I get it from my Dad,” I say. “Mama always used to tell me stories about the crazy stuff he would do, just to make her laugh. Prank calling her unit members, for one. Mama’s unit, Dove and Alora, they still call once a week to check in on us. They would visit if they could, but they never have time.” 

“He’s a civilian, right? Your father?”

“Yeah,” I say. “Mama said that it runs in the Collar family--monogamy.” I shrug. “My grandmother, Cecily Collar, she married a civilian too. Mama said we Collars mate for life, like ducks.” 

Scylla’s voice is soft. “Do you think you will follow in their footsteps?”

I smile at her. “I don’t know about the civilian part, but marriage? One that lasts a lifetime, not just five years? Absolutely.” I stroke her cheek. “My Mama taught me a lot before...last year. One of those lessons is that love doesn’t have an expiration date. And if you really love someone, you want them forever. At least that’s what she believed.” 

“That’s beautiful,” Scylla says. “Just from what you have told me far, I can see so much of your mother in you. I’m sure she would be extremely proud of the kind of person you have become.” 

I feel tears threaten. “Thank you,” I say, wiping at my eyes. 

Scylla pulls me into her and folds me into her arms, her lips close to my ear. “You’re going to be okay, Raelle.” She rocks me while I cry, something Mama used to do, which makes me cry more. “You’re okay. I’m here for you. I’m here.” Scylla doesn’t shy away from my tears, or even the violent, wracking sobs that overtake me, until I quiver in her arms like a leaf in a storm. Scylla doesn’t back away. She holds me tightly enough to keep my heart in my chest, to squeeze every ounce of grief out of me and into the world, and then she holds me still, until I ask for a tissue, and then we laugh, and eventually, eventually, we sleep. 

Scylla and I are still clutching each other, stark naked, when dawn begins to light the windows in a warm display of pink and coral, soft and comforting as a mother’s womb. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I present you with some soft! Tally/Raelle bonding. Said soft! bonding really gave me some feels while writing it, so I hope you have some while reading it.

Of course, Abigail and Tally are both awake when I sneak back into our room.

Abigail looks me up and down while she braids pieces of Tally’s hair, but says nothing. Tally, however, can’t reel in her excitement. 

“You look happy!” She exclaims, jumping to her feet as I slink over to my bed, stripping off my jacket and shoes as I go. “Where were you all night? Were you with her? With  _ Scylla _ ?” 

I pull on clean uniform clothes, lost in my own thoughts. When I go to Scylla’s tonight, I’ll have to make sure I remember to bring a fresh pair of clothes with me. Whatever it takes to get a few extra moments with her in the morning. 

Abigail grunts. 

“I’m not done yet!” She pulls a reluctant Tally back down onto her bed to finish her braids. Tally squirms like a toddler and even sticks out her lower lip, which makes me laugh. Abigail frowns at me. 

“You really  _ are _ in a good mood,” she says. “You must have gotten laid last night.” 

Tally smacks her on the arm, and I retreat to my bed, trying to hide the way I can’t stop giggling. The constant pull of just  _ smiling _ is starting to make the muscles in my jaw hurt. Before I can stop it, a fit of laughter overtakes me, and I grasp my side, unable to stop. 

For no reason that I can understand, Tally joins in, laughing with her head thrown back. I believe she even slaps her knee once, unironically.

Abigail is less than impressed with our hysterics. “You’re both loons,” she declares. She abandons Tally’s braids and throws up her hands. “I can’t do anything with either one of you!”

Tally won’t stop looking at me during inspection, which makes Abigail even more frustrated, and causes her to pull an even tighter leash on us than normal. As soon as she can, Tally catches my eye and grins like a maniac, pointing at the witch’s mark behind her ear and mouthing “Is it shiny?” over Abigail’s head. 

Yesterday I would have been annoyed by her pestering, but nothing annoys me today. I meet her eyes and say, “Yes, Tal,  _ very _ shiny.” 

She squeals in delight and finally stops staring at me with those puppy dog eyes she’s so good at. My mark isn’t like the others I’ve seen, which is why I never show it off, but the mark I do have is shiny, and has been for years, so the concept isn’t nearly as exciting to me as it is to her. 

“Collar! Craven! Are the two of you interested in running extra laps this morning?” 

Tally answers for both of us. “No, ma’am.” 

Anacostia glowers at us for a moment before continuing with her usual morning spiel about “discipline” and “persistence”, or whatever it is she likes to go on about. 

My mind is miles away, down at the Necro dorm, with Scylla. 

I recall watching her sleep early this morning, the barely-perceptible rise and fall of her chest as she snored quietly, mumbling often as she dreamed. I had to go, but I couldn’t bear to wake her when she was sleeping so deeply, so I’d left a note on her desk, and gave her forehead a kiss before I took off running into the pre-dawn. 

The day flies by, with Tally asking me question after question about Scylla in between our training exercises, while Abigail does little more than huff and throw herself moodily into every task, ignoring us both. 

It’s late afternoon, in our seed class with Anacostia, by the time Tally finally starts to slow down on her questions. She touches my arm while we wait for our turn, and asks, “So, when can I meet her?” Her eyes shine with an innocent joy that tugs at my heart. 

“Soon, Tal, I promise.” I nudge her shoulder affectionately. “I’m just not ready to share her yet.” 

It’s our turn to work on our choral sequences, and for the first time since I arrived at Fort Salem, I actually feel like putting in an effort. Harmonizing with Abigail and Tally isn’t so bad, and I definitely enjoy the feeling of warmth and pride that swells in me when Anacostia praises me, even though I have no idea what I’m doing. I don’t know the formal names of the seeds, since I hadn’t been paying attention, but I can feel the vibration of those seeds in my bones, and the sounds come up to my throat easily, like they can’t wait to meet the air and harmonize with the girls. 

Even Abigail has a smile on her face as she leads Tally through a chorus of sounds, Tally’s high voice weaving in and out of Abigail’s. And then there’s me, solid and sturdy beneath them, building the foundation of something electric that buzzes around us and grows stronger and stronger until finally Anacostia and the older officers shriek, and the electricity around us dissipates and fades away into nothing. 

I mourn it when it’s gone, that energy we created, the connection I felt with Abigail and Tally as we vocalized together. Not to mention the whisper of power that thrummed in my blood like its own kind of song. 

At dinner, Tally calls us “special,” and I think I believe her. We  _ are _ special, definitely Tally and me. And maybe Scylla was right. I can do this. Play by their rules, sing their songs. Fight their wars. 

Abigail looks at me the way you look at a stranger’s dog when you’re not sure if it’s going to bite you. I suspect she’s afraid that my good mood and newfound sense of purpose is some kind of game I invented to throw her off. 

I don’t care what she thinks though, especially when I have more important things on my mind. Dusk begins to settle over the base, making my body ache for Scylla in a way that shouldn’t be possible after only one night of rest in her arms. Shouldn’t be possible, but my body betrays me. My foot taps the floor of the cafeteria in an incessant rhythm. My hands refuse to hold steady, so I sit on them, and tap, tap,  _ tap _ my foot. 

After what feels like a lifetime of listening to Tally gush over the three of us and our harmonics, Abigail takes pity on me. “Why don’t you go on over to your Necro?” She says. “Before you melt into a puddle on the floor.”

She doesn’t have to ask me twice. I’m on my feet in an instant, tray in hand. 

Tally sighs, but agrees. “You’ll tell Scylla hi from me, right?” 

I place a hand on the top of her head, smoothing her hair. “Absolutely, Tal. I’ll see you first thing in the morning, okay?”

I feel their eyes on me as I flee the dining room, but I don’t look back. 

I’m crouched under my bed looking for socks when I realize that I’m not wearing my ring. 

“Shit, shit, shit,” I mutter. 

Now that I think about it, I don’t think I’ve been wearing it all day, which is strange, since I never take it off. 

I’m anxious to get to Scylla, but also anxious at the idea of not knowing where Mama’s ring is. 

I turn around to check my backpack, and see that Tally has sneaked in behind me. 

“Whoa! Easy, Tal. I almost ran right into you.” My eyes narrow on her. She looks out of breath, like she ran here. “Uh, are you okay?” I ask her. 

Tally crawls onto my bed behind my blanket, still breathing fast. 

“Hey, Tal! What are you doing?”

I duck behind my blanket and see that Tally is looking at my wall of letters and postcards from Mama, just barely touching the corner of one with the tip of her finger. She looks so comfortable there in my personal space, and I smile. Tally does that to me, softens me up like butter thrown into the microwave.

“I just got off the phone with my mom,” Tally says. 

I sigh. “How bad was it?” 

“Okay, at first, but then everything fell apart, like it always does with her.” Tally takes a deep, heavy breath. “I just try  _ so _ hard, Raelle, to connect with her. On anything. But it never happens. She never listens when I try to talk to her. She hates me for coming here. And it hurts.” 

Tally has told me all about her mom and their rocky relationship. I am sympathetic to her--my Mama may be dead, but when she was alive she made sure I knew every day that she loved me with every ounce of her being, which is something that Tally never had. 

I place a hand on her shoulder, right next to the warm beat of her heart at her throat, and gather my strength when I feel Tally lean into my hand. “I know, Tal. I wish there was something I could do to help.” But unbeknownst to her, there  _ was _ something I could do. 

While Tally talks, I mutter under my breath, more so feeling the taste of the words in my mouth than actually saying them. “ _ Ask and it shall be given you. Seek and ye shall find. Knock and it shall be opened unto you _ .” 

Tally remains blissfully unaware as I siphon away her doubts about her mother’s love, her homesickness, her fear that maybe her mother had been right, and she should have just stayed home. 

I’ve taken Tally’s emotional pain a couple times now, and that fear is always there in the back of her mind, a chronic mental ailment. I even take a little of the pain from Tally’s sore muscles, and feel that same pain creeping up into me in return. 

By the time I’m done Tally is leaning heavily into me, a relieved smile softening the sharp edges of her face. Her proximity is borne of an unconscious reaction to my healing, and the sight of it warms me. Tally’s reaction means that I was successful, and none of her demons will be haunting her anymore. At least not tonight, anyway. 

She sighs, turning away from Mama’s letters to settle her arms around me in a tight hug. “Thank you, Raelle. Talking to you always makes me feel so much better.” 

“Anytime, Tal.” 

After I’ve settled her emotions, Tally insists on helping me look for my missing ring. “We’ll find it,” she assures me. “I always help mom find the keys to the moped at home!” 

She tries to soothe me, but I grow increasingly anxious. Some of that anxiety is secondhand from Tally, but not all of it. I love that ring, and I have no idea how I’ll react if I really have lost it. 

While we turn the room upside down, Tally introduces a new topic. “She tried to ditch us,” she says. 

I look up from beneath Abigail’s bed. “What, are you surprised?” 

“Anacostia told us about the salva,” she says. “I think that’s what pushed her over the edge.” 

I move our tiny dressers around, shove my hands under them. I find a lot of dust and a candy wrapper, but no ring. “I’m allowed to have a  _ little _ fun, Tal. Besides, I’ve turned over a new leaf.” I give her a big smile. “I’m going to be a good little soldier from now on.” 

“I doubt that.” Tally gives me a sappy look. “Would Scylla have anything to do with your change of heart? 

“Yes,” I answer. “Sometimes you just need a reason, you know?” I run my hands over the edges of Abigail’s mattress, even though I’m sure it’s not there. “Scylla’s my reason.” 

“You are such a romantic, Raelle.” Tally upends her own backpack on the floor, even though I’m sure it’s not there either. “You’d never know by looking at you.” 

“Oh my God,” I say. “Tally! Look at this.” 

She comes over and watches as I pull out a folded piece of paper from beneath Abigail’s mattress. 

Tally looks at it, then at me. I look at her, then back at the paper. 

“Should we…?”

“Another time,” I say. “My girl’s waiting for me.” Tally nods, and I carefully replace the paper where I found it, pushing aside my curiosity over what the hell High Atlantic keeps hidden under her mattress. “Probably a picture of herself,” I say. 

Tally laughs, a little guiltily, as she always does when we make fun of Abigail. 

I straighten, and finally say it: “I don’t think my ring is here.” 

Tally is undaunted. “We’ll find it, Raelle. I’ll look more tonight, I promise.” 

“Thanks, Tal.” I gather up my stuff and head for the door, then pause. “You want another hug, or--” 

Tally runs over and clutches me in an iron grip. “Scylla is one lucky girl,” she says as she pulls away. 

“Yeah, yeah. See y'all in the morning.” 

I walk the path to Scylla’s room, a hot burst of anticipation swirling in my gut. 

With each step, the events of the day fade further into obscurity. All that matters now is that I’m only minutes away from Scylla.

Last night with her almost feels like a dream, more like a fantasy than real life. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of her since I crept back to Circe this morning, and I miss her. 

My heartbeat thunders in my chest while I wait. It takes Scylla a minute to answer the door, and when she does, she’s wearing an oversized black t-shirt, her legs bare, hair ruffled. When she sees it’s me, a whole new expression lights her face, wonder and awe.

“Raelle,” Scylla says as she invites me in. Her voice is surprisingly meek. “You came.” She sits on the edge of her bed and straightens the blankets. Her eyes dance away from mine, though she maintains a tight smile. She accepts a kiss from me, lips to the crown of her head. 

I kneel down on the floor beside her and place my palm on her cheek. “You wanna tell me what’s wrong, Scyl?” 

Scylla looks at me with fat tears in her eyes. She hands me a small wooden box that she retrieves from her desk, saying nothing. 

Inside the box is a collection of bits and pieces of objects, and I can’t really identify anything. “What is this?” I ask. 

Scylla looks away. “That’s what’s left of the Ramshorn family combat charm,” she says. “The army just returned it to me today.” 

  
  



	4. Chapter Four

I look at the box in front of me in disbelief. There’s nothing inside it but twigs and pieces of dried plants, tiny shards of what could have been glass or bone or seashell. 

I think of my own combat charm, the bowerbird foot that my Mama loved so much. A priceless family heirloom, impossible to replace. My heart aches for Scylla. 

“I’m so sorry, Scyl,” I say. 

She shakes her head. “They didn’t have to...they didn’t have to kill this too, you know?” Her eyes water. “My great great grandmother made this.” Scylla looks at the broken pieces and picks up a miniscule strand of dried purple flower. She looks at me like she doesn’t even see me. “It was a crow’s skull. Made by Reina Ramshorn. She was necro, like me.” Scylla sighs. “And the only Ramshorn that the military actually respected, according to my father. I never imagined that they would destroy this and give it back to me.” Scylla’s chin falls down to her chest. Tears leak from the corners of her eyes. “Way to add insult to injury, huh?”

I gently pry the purple flower from her hands. It crumbles between my fingers and floats to the floor like ash. 

“What do you mean, they didn’t have to kill this too?” I ask in as calm of a voice as I can manage. The anguish on Scylla’s face makes my blood boil in my veins. I don’t even understand why I’m angry yet, but the rage rises easily, warming up my face.. 

Scylla won’t meet my eyes. She curls up into herself, nothing like the confident actress of last night. She fiddles with her fingers and stares at the wall. 

I attempt to rein in the fury that churns in my gut. I don’t want to misplace that anger and make Scylla think that it’s directed at her. “What’s going on, Scyl?”

“My parents…” 

I sit down on the bed beside her and put my palms on either side of her neck and force her to hold my gaze.

Her skin is warm under my touch. Her cheeks are wet. She tries to squirm away from my touch but I don’t budge.

“My parents were draft dodgers,” she says finally. “We...moved around all the time.” 

I let out a breath. “In hiding?”

“Yes,” Scylla answers. She won’t meet my eyes. “We were found.” Scylla’s breath hitches and quickens. “They didn’t have to kill them, but they wanted to prove a _point_ …” 

A wave of grief and guilt passes over me, and I realize that the emotions swirling through me are not my own. I make no conscious effort to take Scylla’s pain, but the process begins anyway. 

Where my skin touches hers, Scylla’s emotions flow into me, until they fill me up with a wretched grief that sours my stomach and causes my hands to shake. 

Scylla pulls away and studies my face with a look of wonder. “How did you..?” She touches the side of her neck. “You just took my emotions!” She practically climbs into my lap and touches my face. 

“Shaman,” she says in a reverent tone. 

I look at Scylla like she’s just sprouted wings. I shake my head slightly. “What is that?” A stroke of confusion hits me. “How did you know what I was doing?”

Her combat charm temporarily forgotten, Scylla jumps to her feet and begins pacing the length of the room. “A Shaman!” she keens. She glances at me briefly. “As if you needed another thing that makes you extraordinary.”

I watch her from the bed, trying to wrap my mind around the fact that Scylla not only felt it when I took her emotions, but she actually knew what that feeling meant. I feel a pang of loss roll through me, and reach for Mama’s ring. I want to twirl it while I think, but it’s gone. 

Scylla paces as she speaks. “When I was young, ten years old, my parents took me to a beach, not terribly far from here. Called Labor in Pain.” 

The pacing appears to be helping Scylla focus, so I just watch and listen. “It was my birthday,” she says. “And there was only one thing I wanted.” Scylla pauses, gazing out into the darkness outside her window. She turns to me with a wry grin. “A kitten,” she says. 

I laugh. “I was expecting you to say something dead.” 

Scylla doesn’t argue with that. “Yes, but back then I was obsessed with the idea of pets. Like, people could just have a companion animal and _not_ use it as a power source?” Scylla wraps her arms around herself, lost in memories. “And I saw these strays all the time, moving from town to town. The feral cats who wouldn’t let me touch them, the abandoned kittens with ticks and mange and dirty faces. I tried to bring one home so many times.” 

Her face falls, her shoulders droop. “But my parents insisted.” She adopts a masculine voice that I assume is meant to be her father’s. “ _No pets, Scylla. We can’t afford to have another life to worry about, Scylla. Don’t get attached, Scylla. Especially to a creature that serves no purpose but to be cute and scratch up furniture_.” 

I’m so pleased that Scylla is sharing with me that I don’t dare speak and risk breaking the trance-like state that has taken hold of her. 

Scylla uses her whole body when she talks, flailing her hands around and pacing in tight circles. Her face scrunches up with genuine smiles and painful-looking frowns. Occasionally she picks up a random object from somewhere in her room, runs her fingertips over it or fiddles with it momentarily, then places it back down in exactly the same place she’d picked it up from. 

So far Scylla has picked up a small ram figurine with a missing leg, a silver zippo lighter, a palm-sized pocket knife littered with protective runes, a hunk of raw rose quartz, and something long and curved that I suspect to be the rib bone of a medium-sized animal. Possibly a deer. 

I watch her caress each object with the kind of thoughtless familiarity that lets me know that she does this all the time--touches these talismans while she remembers. 

“So I was very sad on this birthday,” Scylla continues. “Sulking alone on the beach, wishing silly ten year old wishes. Wishing that I could have the stupid kitten that I wanted. Wishing that I had a “normal” family, one that didn’t move thousands of miles away every single year. Wishing that I didn’t hurt so much--” Scylla cuts off. Her fingers play along a jagged edge on the ram figurine, where its missing limb had been torn away. 

“I felt her presence before I saw her, like how you can smell the rain before it falls.” 

Scylla’s bare feet pad across the floor, keeping time with her words. “She just appeared in front of me like a ghost...it’s hard to explain. One second I was alone in the sand, and then there she was, holding out her hand for me. She had long yellow hair like a halo. She touched my face, and every ounce of pain left my body...the childish misunderstanding, the hurt, the disappointment, the loneliness. All gone in the blink of an eye.” 

I struggled to wrap my mind around the concept. “I’ve never heard of anyone else who could do that. Take physical pain sure, but emotional pain? My Mama said it was unheard of.” I reach once again for her ring, but find only the bare skin on my index finger. “She warned me never to do it, said it was too risky, getting myself wrapped up in people’s emotions like that.” 

Scylla stops pacing. “She was right!” she says. “You’re going to burn yourself out if you keep this up!” Scylla narrows her eyes. “Just look at you, you look awful.” 

“Thanks,” I mumble. I’m about to make a joke about how _not_ awful she looks, but then the room starts spinning, and I think that yes, I probably do look awful, ‘cause I feel awful. 

And then darkness swallows my vision, and I’m gone. 

When I wake up, I have a killer headache and a crick in my neck. I try to sit up, but blurry hands push me back down and hold me fast. Unyielding. “What hap--”

I stop flailing. Squint up at the person holding me down. 

“Tally?” 

I check my surroundings, and yes, I’m still in Scylla’s room, in her bed, feeling dizzy and emotion-sick. 

“What are you doing here, Tal?” I groan and lick my lips. My mouth feels dry and brittle, like whatever is left of my emotions after this long and surprising day. 

Scylla appears in my sightline with a glass of water. She holds it to my lips and I drink the whole thing in one go, then ask for another. After two more glasses of water, I sit back in the bed and focus on Tally. “So, what’s going on? Are you okay? Is Abigail?” 

Tally interrupts me. “I followed you here.” 

“Okay…” 

I look to Scylla, but she just shrugs and says, “She knocked on the door right after you fainted.” She looks at Tally, who hovers over the bed, unmoving. “And frankly, she’s starting to freak me out.” 

My eyes move to Tally, still wearing her uniform, staring at me with big, liquid eyes. “Uh, you okay, Tal?”

Tally smiles. “I’m great, now that I’m here!” 

Scylla throws up her hands. “She’ll answer if I ask her a direct question, but otherwise she won’t say a damn word. It’s like she’s brainwashed or something.” 

“Okay.” I turn to Tally, trying to ignore the trembles and aches that wrack my body. “Uh, why did you follow me, Tal?” 

“Oh!” Tally reaches into her pocket and holds her hand out to me. “I brought this for you.”

Mama’s ring. 

I grab it and hold it close to my face, confirm that it’s real. “Oh, Tal, thank you.” I slip the ring back on my finger where it belongs, and then start categorizing the aches and pains in my body. My head is the worst, a throbbing, blunt pain that scrambles my thoughts and makes my vision swim. But everything else hurts too: my back, neck, shoulders, even my wrists feel sore and aching. “Where did you find it?” I get out. 

Tally answers promptly. “In the grass, over by that tree you like.” 

Scylla walks over and looks at Tally with concern. “You were out looking for it in the woods? Just now?”

“Yes! Raelle loves that ring. I knew she wouldn’t be complete until I found it.” Tally leans close into Scylla’s space. “Plus, I knew exactly where it was!”

Scylla and I exchange a look. “What do you mean? How could you know where it was?” She asks. 

Tally offers up her left wrist. Scylla and I look at it, and I notice a faint mark in the shape of a triangle on the inside of her wrist. “What is that?” 

Tally grins. “I don’t know! It just showed up tonight, right after you left to come here.” Tally sways back and forth a little. “And now I always know where you are.” She leans in and very loudly whispers in Scylla’s ear, “That’s how I knew where the ring was! It’s part of Raelle, and we’re _connected_ now.” 

Tally’s rambling is not helping my headache. 

“What the hell is wrong with me?” I ask out loud, mostly to myself.

Apparently Tally thinks I’m addressing her, because she snaps to attention and answers, “Nothing! You’re perfect.” Tally’s face settles into a dopey smile. “Perfect in every way...perfect Rae!”

  
  



	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 6L LIVES!

I sit up with my legs hanging over Scylla’s bed. Every nerve in my body feels frayed and brittle, like a rubber band about to break. “I don’t understand,” I say. “Is this some kind of prank, Tal? Cause it’s really not fu--”

“No!” Tally interrupts me. “It’s not a prank. I thought it was weird at first too, but now...it’s perfect, don’t you see?” Tally rests her hands on my thighs and stares into my eyes like she’s trying to convey something important. “This is  _ it _ ,” she says. 

I wonder if it’s the aches and pains making it impossible for me to think straight, or if Tally got into some witch’s tears while she was searching our room for my ring. Scylla saves me from having to respond by coming over and prying Tal’s hands off of me. 

“Why don’t you sit down, honey?” Scylla says. She tugs Tal by her wrist and urges her to sit down on the bed beside me. Tally scooches over to sit as close to me as possible--I can feel the heat emanating from her skin and smell the clean, citrusy scent of her hair. Strangely, I feel a tinge of relief when Tal shifts and her hand brushes the bare skin on my arm. 

Without thinking about it, I reach for her hand, and she takes it at once, holding it sandwiched between both of hers. 

I let out a sigh and lean into her. Tally wraps an arm around me and presses back.

Scylla sinks to her knees in front of the bed and focuses on Tally. When Tal keeps turning her head away to look at me, Scylla holds her by the chin to keep her still. “Tally? I’m just going to ask you some questions, okay? Will you listen to me for just a minute?” Scylla actually  _ winks _ . “Afterwards, you can help Raelle feel better. Promise.”

Tally perks up. “Really? I can do that?”

“Absolutely.” Scylla glances at me briefly, notices my head now resting on Tally’s shoulder, and says in a soft voice: “You can feel it now, right? How drained she is?”

Tally rubs my hand absently, every strand of her attention trained on Scylla. “Yes,” Tally says. “That’s why I  _ had  _ to come. I knew she needed me.”

I’m so lost and bleary at this point that I don’t even question whatever the fuck the two of them are talking about. I give Tal my other hand and let her cradle both my hands in her tight grip. The heat of her palms feels good, like a salve on my fried nerve endings. 

Scylla’s eyes sparkle. She looks pointedly at Tally’s arm, where she showed us the faint triangle mark. “Let me see it.” 

Tally obeys, and Scylla spends an excruciatingly long time examining her wrist. Her brow furrows. She turns Tally’s wrist up and points. “Was it that dark before?”

Tal looks at her arm dispassionately, as though it weren’t attached to her body. “Nope,” she says. 

“Huh.” 

Scylla touches the triangle, which is now significantly darker, about the size of a quarter, stark against the pale creamy skin of Tal’s arm. Scylla clears her throat. “Did Raelle take your emotions today, Tally?”

Tal shakes her head with a goofy smile on her face. “I don’t know what that means.” 

Scylla tries to give Tally her arm back, but Tally shoves it back. “You can keep my arm if you want,” Tally says, eyes wide. 

“Thank you,” Scylla says. “That’s very generous. But I need my hands free to demonstrate.” 

“Oh.” Tally melts even more into my side, and I find myself melting back. 

Scylla squares her shoulders. She puts her hands deliberately on Tally’s neck. Adjusts her grip. 

Tally and I are so close that the back of Scyl’s hand presses up against my cheek. 

I don’t think I could move even if I wanted to. 

“Did she do this?” Scylla asks. “Did she touch you like this before your mark appeared?”

Tally nods slowly. I feel her head move, her orange-scented hair tickling my neck. “Yeah. She’s good at that.” 

Scylla laughs, soft and tinkling, like the Christmas bell that Mama used to wear on a red ribbon around her neck during the holidays--it’s a comforting sound. 

“Oh, I know,” Scylla says. She leans in close to Tally and kisses her forehead. “Were you upset this evening, Tally?”

“I think...my mom…” Tally says, before trailing off. “Something about…” She pauses, then says, “I actually don’t remember why I was so upset.” I feel her breathing intensify, her chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. “Why can’t I remember?” 

Scylla shushes her. “Don’t worry about that right now. You’ll be able to think more clearly soon.” 

I interrupt. “Scyl? Are we going to be getting to the “make Raelle feel better” part soon? Cause I think I may be dying.” 

To my surprise, Scylla completely ignores me. She cradles Tally’s head and asks her more questions. 

“How many times has Raelle taken your emotions?” A hint of worry seeps into her voice, but I don’t have enough strength to wonder why. “Try to think, Tally, this is important.”

Tally’s voice sounds a little more lucid when she answers this question. “You mean how many times she’s made me feel better?” She offers Scyl a dopey smile. “Every day since we got here.” 

Scylla’s groan of frustration is so loud it makes me jump. 

“What? What’s happening?”

She looks at me with the haughty fire of righteous anger. “You took her emotions  _ every day _ !? For two weeks? When you had no  _ idea _ of the consequences?” Scylla is so bothered by this fact that she tears her hands away from Tally and begins pacing the room yet again. I’m genuinely surprised that she hasn’t worn holes into the floor by now. 

While Scylla picks up her pacing rhythm, Tally laughs, her whole body shaking with it. 

Scylla and I stare at her in bewilderment. 

Tally looks at us with glee. “She’s adorable when she’s angry!” 

Now I join in on the laughter too. “The scrunched-up face, right? It’s so good!”

Tally twists her face up into a poor imitation of Scylla’s angry face. We both laugh harder, even though the action makes my aching muscles scream in protest. 

“Ladies! Do I need to separate you?” Scylla points to her desk chair and frowns. “Am I the only one in this room who’s trying to figure out what the hell is going on?”

That sobers us up quickly. I gather as much mettle as I can and try to appease Scylla. I grab Tally’s face and turn her to Scyl. “Look at her.” Tally makes an appropriately pitiful face, sticking her lower lip out. “She was in pain, Scyl, and I knew that I could make it go away. The first time, it was a complete accident, I swear.”

Scylla paces. “And the other times?” 

I release Tally’s face and lean back against the wall. “Not accidents,” I admit.

Scylla turns in tight circles around her room while Tal and I watch, transfixed. 

“Did you really think you could just do that? Take someone’s  _ emotions _ ? With no side effects?” Scylla picks up her little ram figurine again. She appears to make a physical effort to calm herself as she strokes its miniscule curved horns. “Not just to yourself. Did you ever stop to think about the effect it would have on Tally? For you to take her emotions that often?” Scylla tosses the figurine back onto her desk and picks up a different object--this time a leather bound notebook that she retrieves from a drawer in her nightstand. She flips through the book rapidly, looking for something. 

Anxiety creeps up through my achy fog. “What are you talking about? There’s no side effects for her. I take on some of her emotions, sure, but…” I shake my head. “It’s never affected the subject before.” I look at Tally, who leans her full weight into me, staring dazedly at Scylla. “Definitely not like this…” 

Scylla stops at a page in her notebook and motions me to be quiet. “God _ damn _ it,” she says after a moment, then continues reading. 

Out of nowhere, Tally starts kissing my neck. 

I startle. “What are you doing  _ now _ ?” 

She pauses between kisses to reply, “You need this. You’re weak right now--I can feel it. I can make you strong again.” Tally’s braids tickle as she kisses my cheek. “You’re in so much pain...I can feel it. All of it.” Tally nuzzles into my neck. “I can help.” 

Scylla is lost in her notebook, mouthing words as she reads. 

“Scyl? Some help, please?”

“She’s right,” Scylla says, still reading. “She can help. Maybe even better than I can right now.” 

For the first time since she came into Scylla’s room, Tally says something without being prompted. “I doubt that! I’m a complete virgin.” 

Despite this claim, Tal continues to press lingering kisses to my neck. My muscles quiver, achy and sore. With each kiss, the throbbing pain in my head retreats a little bit more. 

Scylla slams her notebook shut, startling both me and Tally, who quickly stops her ministrations and looks a little scared. “Scylla! I am so sorry! I have no idea what came over me…”

“Oh, honey, don’t worry about it.” Scylla interrupts. She walks over and smooths Tally’s hair back from her face, then continues pacing, her notebook clutched in her arms. 

She turns to look at Tally, then smiles at me. “She  _ is _ awfully cute, isn’t she?”

My heart starts beating faster in my chest, though I can’t pinpoint the source of the adrenalin that splashes through my bloodstream at Scylla’s words. 

Tal pauses in the middle of trying to undo one of my braids. Her dark eyes widen. “Who?  _ Me _ ?”

Instead of answering, Scylla stops in the middle of the room and plants her feet. She looks at me. “The Shaman I met when I was a kid...she stuck with me. Over the years I’ve researched into the phenomena of Shamanism. Though to be honest there’s very little information available, and what I  _ have _ found is not from the most reliable sources. However, I do have some ideas about how the process works.” 

Scylla sighs. “What I’m trying to say, Raelle, is that I think you and Tally have formed an empathy link. It’s an extremely rare occurrence from what I understand, but not impossible. Especially if there is already a strong emotional connection between the Shaman and the subject.” Scylla gestures to me and Tal, who is busily unbraiding my hair with nimble fingers. “And the little bit of information I’ve found on empathy links...well, both sources agree that the link is permanent.”

  
  



	6. Chapter Six

I pull away from Tally and her wandering lips long enough to look at Scylla in disbelief. “Permanent? That’s impossible.” I try to move away from Tal so that I can focus on Scylla and the unbelievable words coming out of her mouth, but it’s a wasted effort on my part--like we’re magnetized, Tally leans with me, her body following mine. 

My headache throbs. “This can’t be permanent.” 

Tally looks at Scylla with unwavering focus. “You really think I’m cute?” She asks. 

I push weakly on Tally’s shoulder, but she doesn’t budge. 

“Bigger fish to fry.” I mutter. 

I try to pile enough words on top of each other to form a coherent question, but my last shred of strength leeches out of me like a still-weeping wound. My thoughts churn in swishy circles of pain--headache, muscle ache, heartache. 

Tally’s, Scylla’s, mine. 

“I hurt,” I choke out. 

Her hands in my hair, unbraiding, Tally soothes me: “I know, I know. I feel it too. But you’ll be okay. We’ll be okay. We’ll be okay.” Her nails scratch against my scalp, and her fingers sift through my freshly un-braided hair. “You have to be okay. I’ll make sure you’re okay.” 

The conviction in her voice concerns Scylla, who scurries over to the bed and examines my face. She presses the back of her hand to my forehead and frowns. 

“Tally, you can start taking your clothes off now.” 

I lift my head up as high as I’m able and stare open-mouthed at Scylla. “I’ve gotta be dreaming,” I say. 

Scylla crosses to her desk and picks up a hair tie, slips it between her teeth as she gathers her dark hair up into a messy bun. She wraps the tie around her hair and slinks toward the bed, her eyes on mine. 

When she’s a foot away she pauses and throws Tally a look. 

“Now,” she says, with a little more edge to it. 

When Tally does nothing but gape up at her, Scylla rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “Goddess protect this one…” 

Scylla turns to Tally and starts playing with her hair, moving it away from her collar. She gets up close in Tally’s face and licks her cheek, then tugs sharply on a piece of hair. “We’re going to make Raelle feel better now. Would you like that?”

Tal nods with wide eyes, her arms tightening around my shoulders. 

Scylla begins unzipping Tally’s jacket. “Well, actually, you’re going to do all of the work,” she tells Tally. “I’ll just talk you through it.” 

I let out a grunt of surprise, but neither one of them pays me any mind. 

“Okay,” Tally says. “I can do that.” She eyes Scylla’s hands as she peels her jacket from her shoulders and throws it behind her, where it lands in a surprisingly tidy pile on her desk. Tally looks at me. “How is she  _ so _ good at that?”

“She practiced that,” I whisper weakly. 

Encouraged by my response, Tally pulls her shirt over her head, then freezes, like she just realized what she’s done. Her shirt falls to the floor, and all three of us watch its descent. Tally looks up at Scylla with a helpless expression. 

I lean heavily against the wall and close my eyes. Start a quick prayer in my head that I’m not dreaming, hallucinating, or dead. It ends up being a very short and confused and jumbled prayer, nothing like my usual monologues to God, but I reckon He’ll hear it just the same. 

When I open my eyes, Scylla’s trailing her fingertips over Tally’s bicep, the inside of her elbow. She reaches behind Tally’s back and unclasps her bra. “You’re doing great, honey. Keep going.” She nods her head toward me. “Her too.” 

Tal rushes to obey, shucking off her shoes and pants and every other stitch of clothes she’s got on. 

Within a minute, I’m sitting in Scylla’s bed with a naked Tally and an ear-splitting headache, with Scylla watching us both with a hawk-like expression. 

“Fuck,” I mumble into the cold cinderblock wall.

Scylla pinches Tally’s cheek, making her smile like an idiot, then gives Tally’s body an appreciative glance before she turns and crawls into the bed with us. 

Scylla’s bed was not made to accommodate three people, but somehow we make it work. 

Scylla settles at the head of the bed, her back pressed into the corner against the wall, and eases me down, my head in her lap. Tally sits at the foot of the bed, moving my calves to rest on top of her thighs. 

“Just try and relax, Raelle.” Scylla starts massaging my scalp, pressing hard with the pads of her fingers, scratching with the ends of her blunt nails. 

I look up at her, conflicted. “What’s happening to me?”

“Shh,” Scylla soothes. “You’ve taken too many emotions today, that’s all. Your body is exhausted and overwhelmed, but you’ll be okay.” Scylla scratches the back of my neck, and I can’t hold back a moan. At the other end of the bed, Tally busily removes my boots and socks, lining them up neatly on the floor at the side of the bed. 

“You’ll feel better a lot faster though, if you let Tally help you.” Scylla runs her hands through my hair, scratches lightly at my scalp, uses her fingers to gently unbraid a strand of hair that Tally missed. 

“I do feel really sick,” I admit. “I can’t think...”

At Scylla’s nod, Tally eases my pants down over my hips. She’s so gentle, like she’s handling a glass sculpture instead of a grown-ass woman. It’s kind of sweet, but does nothing to ease the ache in my muscles or the building pressure between my legs. Her soft touch makes me want to tell her she doesn’t have to be so careful--I’ve been handled before with much less care, and it didn’t break me. 

I still suspect that I’m dreaming, so I decide I might as well enjoy this fantasy. “Can you tell Tal to be a little less porcelain doll with me? She’s killin’ me.”

Scylla grins, then looks to Tally with an eyebrow raised. “Is that okay with you, honey?”

With a grim determination, Tally climbs up over me and settles with her knees on either side of my hips. Naked and flushed, she is stunning. She also looks a little angry. “You want rough, I can do rough,” she says. To herself or to me, I have no idea. 

Tally leans down and kisses me, her ginger hair falling around us in a citrusy curtain. She goes right for it, sticking her tongue in my mouth, nipping my bottom lip. I learn immediately that Tally is a sloppy kisser, and that she’s a lot more comfortable topping me than I ever would have guessed. Her hands grip my shoulders in a vise-like grip, and somehow while I’m not paying attention, Scylla works her hands to my waist and then my shirt is gone too. 

I shiver as the cool air hits my bare skin. My breathing is already ragged and loud. Finally, finally, the bone-deep ache in my body wavers. After that tiny prick of relief, I get greedy. “Touch me,” I gasp in between Tally’s kisses and bites. “Please, Tal.” 

Scylla places her hand on the back of Tally’s neck and tugs her head up by her hair. “Let’s cut to the chase this first time, okay?” She says to Tally. “We need to recharge her battery before we can drain it again.” 

Tally looks at Scylla so intensely that for a second I think she might kiss her too, but then she turns her face back to me. I’m caught in the heat of her stare, high on the thrill of pain relief and adrenaline and the intoxicating smell of Tally’s hair and skin. 

“Fine.” 

Maintaining eye contact, Tally eases back and settles onto her stomach. She grips my hips tight, and starts kissing her way up and down my thighs. My head falls back into Scylla’s hands, and I whine, long and low. “Tal…” 

With more sass than I’d ever heard from her before, Tally says, “I am  _ going _ as fast as I can, Raelle. Deal with it.” 

Scylla snorts in laughter. “You tell her, honey.” 

I moan, both hating and loving the teasing. On the one hand, seeing Tally like this, so confident and playful, is making me shake in delicious anticipation. 

On the other, this is taking entirely too long. 

“Please?” I ask again, hoping that one of them will take pity on me. 

Scylla whispers into Tally’s ear, close, and I can’t catch the words. When she pulls away, Tal’s face is red and her eyes are hazy.

Whatever Scylla said to her, it gets Tally moving. She bites down on the inside of my thigh and brings her right hand between my legs. With absolutely no fanfare, she sticks a finger inside me and bites harder on my thigh, moaning as she does. 

I let out a cry as well, and Scylla strokes my face with her small, lightly callused hands. A whimper escapes me when Tally wastes no time adding a second finger, giving an audible groan as she sinks into me. 

My body floods with heat, pleasure replacing the pain in my body. “Please…” I whine over and over, squirming in Scylla’s hands. 

I can’t look away from Tally, at the resilient set of her shoulders, and the look of wonder and awe on her face as my body shakes and bucks and wriggles under her touch. 

Tally looks at Scylla with big eyes, and she takes her hand away from my face long enough to shoot Tal a thumbs up. 

I’m enjoying myself too much to even think about complaining about the two of them conspiring against me. 

Tally sits up a little, staring intently at me. She puts her back into it, pumping me and filling me up in the best way. 

“Why don’t you tell Raelle how good she feels?” 

Tally takes a deep breath, rests her arm for a second, then continues with her thrusts. 

“She feels incredible,” Tally says, but Scylla shakes her head. 

“Tell it to her, honey, not me.” 

Obediently, Tally says to me, “You feel incredible, Raelle.” 

I groan. My body tightens. I feel the whoosh of blood in my veins, the pulse of my heart in my throat. Sensations everywhere. It’s overwhelming. Scylla strokes her hands down my neck and caresses my collarbones, while Tally fucks me with her fingers so well that I wonder if she really has never done this before. 

I’m so close to coming undone when Scylla leans down to whisper in my ear: “How does Tally feel, Raelle? Tell her.” 

“Fuck,” I moan. With Tally inside me and Scylla’s voice in my ear, I come hard and fast, before I can even say anything else. 

As the waves of pleasure and relief wash over me, I catch Scylla giving Tally a tender look, and the sight of it warms my heart and increases my high. I cry out sharply, and Scylla kisses the noise from my lips, her hands cradling my jaw. 

In this moment, I know nothing of pain. Nothing of grief and hurt and loneliness. 

I know the feel of Tally’s fingers and the comfort of Scylla’s smell. I know the sweet, giddy relief of the easing of pain. I know the waves of warmth and connection wafting to me from Tally, and the way she moans softly to herself every time she pushes inside me. 

In this moment, I know nothing of pain. 

  
  



	7. Chapter Seven

The next day Abigail is on the warpath. 

She tears into me and Tally during dinner, while the two of us sit huddled together on the opposite side from her, Tally’s hand in mine under the table. 

I squeeze her hand at least once a minute, and she squeezes back. Tally’s leg presses against mine, warm and solid. She sits so close that her hair tickles my neck. 

It has been this way all day, me and her and skin-to-skin contact, whenever and wherever possible. I try not to think about it too much, the unconscious contact, the way Tally’s hand in mine feels as energizing as gripping a live wire. I also try not to think about the strange dark triangle on Tally’s wrist, hidden beneath her jacket...the same wrist that last night I kissed as she stroked my face and--

“Irresponsible, lazy...shitbirds!” Abigail chews her food angrily, stopping to berate us between mouthfuls. “You both were AWOL _all_ night.” She points to Tally, whose eyes are downcast, resting on her still-steaming mug of dandelion tea. “One shitbird is bad enough. I don’t need your ass out there running around with Raelle all night! I swear, the two of you are going to ruin any chance of us getting into War College.” She sighs. “I expected this from her, Tally, but I thought you were serious about being here. With your mom and all..”

I glare at Abigail. She’s been saying different variations of the same thing to Tally all day, and I’ve had just about enough of it. Waves of shame and guilt radiate from Tally, stale and bitter like a bad taste in my mouth. In response, fury rises up from my gut like bile.

“We get it, Abigail. We messed up. But leave Tally out of it. It’s my fault we missed inspection, okay? And _my_ fault that your royal highness is gonna lose some of your precious beauty sleep for guard duty tonight. So just **_back off her_ ** _!”_

My voice echoes with suppressed power, and every witch in the cafeteria stops talking and turns to stare at us. Whispers fill the room, and my ears catch snatches of phrases like “not again” and “here we go” and “my money’s on the Cession girl.” 

As much as I enjoy being the favorite in a one-on-one with Abigail Bellweather, the last thing me and Tal need is more eyes on us right now. 

I drop Tally’s hand, and at once the roiling energy inside me dissipates. All day, Tally’s emotions have been all over the place, which means that mine have been too. 

Trying to be casual, Tally takes a sip of her tea and immediately winces at the temperature. She jerks back, sloshing hot liquid all over the table, herself, and me. 

I curse under my breath and start to mop up the mess with napkins, ignoring the confused look on Abigail’s face. “Here, Tal.” I use the sleeve of my jacket to wipe a bit of tea from her cheek. 

As quickly as the anger and power built up inside me, it is gone. 

“Sorry,” I mumble in Abigail’s direction. 

Tally plays with her food and taps her fingers against her leg incessantly. I can tell that she wants me to take her hand again, but I hesitate, afraid of another High Atlantic-induced explosion. 

After a moment the constant hum of conversation reclaims the room, and Abigail chews her way moodily through a dinner roll. “I don’t understand,” she takes a sip from her water, then continues, “what were you two doing all night anyway?”

I choke on my own water. Flash a quick look at Tally that says _be quiet._

Unfortunately, some of the effects of the empathy link still haven’t faded completely, the most notable being Tally’s overall haziness and the fact that she seems unable to resist the compulsion to answer a direct question. 

“Raelle needed me,” Tally blurts out. I kick her leg underneath the table, and she closes her mouth. Her emotions press against me, as solid and insistent as a hungry stray begging for scraps.

“Yeah,” I say, thinking fast. I cough once, twice, and clear my throat. “I needed Tally to help me…” I scramble desperately for anything but the truth. “I needed her to help me find my Mama’s ring.” I look at Abigail with as much distaste as I can muster. “I lost it...somewhere yesterday. We were looking for it for hours.” I hold up my right hand. “We finally found it just before dawn.” 

“Exactly,” Tally says. She goes to take a sip from her tea, but this time I stop her, placing my hand on top of hers and shaking my head. A buzz of energy strikes up from her hand to mine, but I push it down as fast as I can. 

“Did you want a repeat performance?” I ask Tally through gritted teeth. 

Abigail puts down her fork. “Okay, spill it. What the fuck is going on between you two?”

I pause mid-chew. “What do you mean?” 

Tally stares down into the depths of her mug, her emotions soft and vague, on the periphery of my awareness. 

Abigail gestures between Tally and me. “Tally’s acting like a zombie...” She folds her hands on the table in front of her, food forgotten. “The two of you can’t keep your hands off each other.” Her eyes focus in on me and hold my gaze. “And _you_ just turned your temper on and off like a switch.” 

I look away and push the mashed potatoes around on my plate. “You’re losing it, Bellweather.” 

“No, she’s not.” 

Tally looks up from her tea. “I do feel a little bit like a zombie…” Her brow furrows. She turns to me with an adoring face. “But Raelle makes everything better.” 

I try not to smile back at her, but I can’t resist. Even pre-empathy link Tally softened my edges. Now, with her emotions and mine all tangled up like our limbs were last night, I don’t stand a chance. 

“Oh my Goddess.” Abigail groans at an annoyingly high volume. 

I look at her, confused. 

Determination settles over her face. “Tally, show me your mark.” 

Tally startles, but reaches to push her hair back and tilts her head, exposing the witch’s mark behind her ear, shining bright as daylight and glittering like a diamond. I try to stop her, but it’s too late--Abigail’s eyes widen. 

“Tell me you didn’t.” 

I try to quiet Abigail but my attempt is as effective as trying to mow the lawn with a butter knife. 

“You _slept_ with Tally!?” 

Abigail squeezes the bridge of her nose. “Have you lost your podunk mind?”

My spine stiffens. “What did you just say?”

Abigail stands, eyes sharp. “You heard me.” She points to Tally, who has her arms wrapped around herself, her jaw clenched. “She grew up in a matrifocal compound. She’s been around lesbians her whole life! What did you do to get her to sleep with you? And another thing! Don’t you _have_ a girlfriend already, Raelle?”

I jump to my feet, ignoring Tally’s plea of, “She’s just trying to rile you up, Raelle. Don’t let her.” 

“Sorry,” I say, dripping sarcasm. “I forgot that me and Tal were required to run our personal lives by you first.” 

Without warning, the lights in the cafeteria flicker and sputter. The sound of shattering glass and surprised gasps fill the room. One by one, the fluorescent bulbs overhead explode and go out, sending small showers of glass slivers raining down on us and the five or so witches still in the cafeteria. 

Within a moment, the room is dim, lit only by the dying light of twilight filtering in through the windows. Then the ground beneath my feet starts to shiver, and I realize that the walls of the building around us creak and groan. 

The other witches make a hasty retreat, but the three of us don’t move a muscle. A violent wind starts tearing through my hair. 

Liquid fire burns through my veins. I almost laugh with joy at the sheer amount of power that floods me. After the helplessness of last night and the pain that I feared I would drown in, it feels insanely good. Better than salva, better than any drug I’ve tried or even heard of. 

I feel like I could raze all of Fort Salem to the ground if I wanted to. 

As if from a great distance, Abigail’s voice reaches me. “You have to calm down, Raelle!”

Her words make no sense to me. I am nothing but a conduit for the strength of my own emotions--fury is fire, and I’m a lit match. 

The walls quiver under the weight of the enormous power that’s seized me. I don’t know what’s happening, but inside I am scared. I feel like Samson on his last day at the temple of Dagon, seconds away from bringing an entire city to its knees. 

Do I control this power or does it control me? 

I feel myself begin to snap like a rubber band, but then I feel soft hands on my neck and face. “Raelle, Raelle.” A warm river of calm and tranquility passes over me. 

I don’t recognize my own name at first, I am so lost in the throes of this power. 

“Raelle, Raelle.” 

In seconds, the unrelenting force within me recedes like the tide, leaving me dried out and crumbling. 

My head meets the cold tile floor, and I’m gone. 

***

Hours later I’ve got a bump the size of a half-dollar on the back of my head and a girl glued to either side of me. 

Unfortunately for me it’s not the combination of girls that I want. 

“Could you walk any slower, Raelle? At this rate it will be dawn by the time we secure one damn building.” 

I say nothing. Abigail’s been baiting my hook again and again, but I’m doing my best to exemplify one of dad’s favorite sayings: _any fish can choose not to bite._

From my other side, Tally pipes up: “Leave her alone, Abigail.” 

“Only if you do it first.” 

I roll my eyes. “We’d be walking a lot faster if you would quit yapping.”

Tally squeezes my hand, and at the same time a tingle of hurt zips up my spine. I recognize the emotion as Tally’s, so I say quietly to her, “Bellweather, obviously, not you.” 

“Hey.” 

I feel a hand on my shoulder and turn to see a woman with short hair behind us, a large thermos under her arm. Tally and Abigail do nothing but stare at her so I ask, “Who are you?” because apparently now is the time Abigail decides to finally shut up. 

The woman holds out her hand. “Lieutenant Helen Graves.” 

I shake her hand, never letting go of Tally’s. 

“And you must be privates Craven and Collar.” Helen Graves smiles at me and Tally. She has a warm smile, but for some reason I don’t trust it. 

“Hi,” I say warily, trying to figure out where I’ve seen this woman before. 

Helen pulls her thermos out and lighty shakes it at me. “I brought coffee,” she says, surprisingly chipper.. 

I decline, but Tally reaches for the thermos and inhales deeply. “Oh thank Goddess.” She pours a healthy amount of milky coffee into the lid and drinks the whole thing in one gulp. She shakes her head as if to clear it. “Ah, so much better. Thank you,” she says to Helen, already pouring more. 

The familiar-yet-unfamiliar woman looks at me as she speaks. “I’m glad someone appreciates my gift.” 

Her face tightens as she takes in Abigail, now standing several paces away and glowering. “What are you doing here, Bellweather? I was told Craven and Collar were my only troublemakers tonight.” 

Helen thumps Tally on the back and then stalks ahead, trying door knobs as she walks. She strides right past Abigail like she isn’t even there, which makes Abigail fume. I can practically see the smoke coming out of her ears. 

“Our drill sergeant ordered that we serve our guard duty as a unit, ma’am. I’m simply along for the ride.” Abigail strains to keep her voice respectful, but I hear the effort it costs her. 

“Of course she did.” Helen pulls out a flashlight and flicks it on. “Must be Quartermaine, right?” 

“The one and only,” I say, a little bit charmed by her distaste for Anacostia. 

Helen glances back at Tally, and her eyes widen. “Easy there, sweetheart.” She takes the thermos out of Tally’s grasp and hands it to an eternally grumpy Abigail. “There’s about eight shots of espresso in that, Craven, and you look like you’re wild enough as it is.” 

Tally blushes. Abigail peers into the thermos and takes a cautious sip. “Four witches seems like overkill for a completely unnecessary night watch.” 

Helen brushes Abigail off like a pesky fly. “It’s overkill cause _you’re_ here, Bellweather.” She shines her flashlight into various windows, as serious and focused as if she were defusing bombs. “Three is _so_ not a crowd,” she adds, speaking so quickly that I think maybe I heard her wrong.

We follow Helen through hallway after hallway, then outside into the chill air, where we walk the perimeter for hours, my feet growing heavier with each step. Tally and I trail behind Helen and Abigail, who have sustained their slightly threatening banter throughout the night. 

“You’re going to collapse any minute, Raelle,” Tally whispers in my ear. 

“I’m f--” I start to say, but I’m interrupted by Tally’s hand slipping underneath my jacket, pulling my shirt up from where it’s tucked into my belt. Her hand presses into the small of my back, and she closes her eyes, muttering something under her breath. A steady stream of energy jolts from her skin to mine, hot and electric. 

When Tally opens her eyes, they are dark with emotions that I can feel but not quite identify. She slips her other hand underneath my shirt and rubs soothing circles into my waist. All at once I’m filled with a desire so strong that I forget where we are, what we’re doing, and who’s with us. 

I knot my fingers into the hair at the back of Tally’s neck and bring her face close to mine. “How do you keep doing that?” I whisper against her mouth. 

“I have no idea,” she whispers back, her breath audible between us. “I just touch you, and call up the feeling I want, then I...send it to you? I don’t know how else to explain it.” 

I kiss the corner of Tally’s mouth. Move us deeper into the shadows. “At dinner, I couldn’t stop myself. I could have done a lot of damage, even hurt someone.” 

Tally presses her face into the warmth underneath my jaw. “That’s why I sent you _calm_. I don’t know how I knew it would work, but I did.” 

“You seem more clear-headed, Tal. How are you feelin’?” I kiss her closed eyelids, the left, then the right. 

“At the moment? I feel like I’ll scatter in the wind like ash if you don’t kiss me. Right now.” 

I chuckle. “That’s not really what I meant, but--” 

Tally stops me with the crash of her lips on mine. I melt into her, sighing into her mouth, breathing her air. 

A hint of guilt creeps into my mind. “Tal, are you sure you’re okay with this? Maybe Abigail is right, and I’m taking advantage of you somehow--”

“Shut up, Raelle.” Tally pushes me back against the side of the building, her head ducking down to kiss the side of my neck. 

All around us is dark and quiet. I hear crickets singing, sleepy outdoor sounds. The air feels humid and charged, like a thunderstorm is brewing. All thoughts of Abigail and Helen Graves leave me as Tally kisses her way up and down my neck, nipping at my bottom lip when she finally gets back to my mouth. 

My body hums with excitement, legs a little wobbly. Tally whispers into my ear, “Take what you need.” 

“What if I don’t know what I need?” My head falls back against the brick, sending a jolt of pain to the still-sore knot on the back of my head, though I barely notice. “What if I only know what I _want_?”

Tally traces her hands up my sides, nuzzles behind my ear. “Maybe they’re the same thing?” 

“Nothing’s that easy,” I say, surprised to hear a hint of melancholy in my voice. 

“You think way too much,” Tally says. Then she bites down into my neck, her arms tight around me. 

A weak moan escapes me. My right hand reaches up to support the back of her head, press it closer. 

Tally’s hand is unbuckling my belt when suddenly she stops. Tilts her head. 

I groan. “Tally, any day now…” 

Tally steps back, and my body aches to follow her. “We’re being watched,” Tally says. 

I stand up straight and push off from the wall. I suddenly wish that I’d kept the flashlight that Helen had offered me. I listen hard. Hear the sound of rustling trees and the whistle of the breeze. Then, very close, footsteps. 

Tally jumps a foot in the air and yelps. “Something just touched me!” 

My mind still hazy with desire, I don’t understand her words. “ _I’m_ touching you, Tal.” 

“Something _else_ , Raelle.” 

I plant my feet. “Who’s there?” I bellow. 

Very close, an owl hoots. More rustling, more footfalls. Then a floodlight turns on far overhead, illuminating our audience. 

I squint. Shake my head, but, yes, the image stays the same. I poke Tally’s shoulder. “Look.” 

Tal turns around and gasps. 

Tally and I stare open-mouthed at the motley assortment of animals that have gathered in a loose semi-circle around us. In the glare of the floodlight, I can make out several forms--up in the trees, the still shapes of the owls, their eyes wide and luminous. Scattered across the clearing, an army of shapes coalesces: the tall statuesque silhouette of stags and does, the lumbering shapes of bears, and the smaller creatures--groundhogs, possums, foxes, skunks, squirrels, and an entire herd of scraggly-looking cats that must be feral. 

As we watch, one of the small orange foxes approaches Tally cautiously. Tal kneels down and stretches out her hand, and to my surprise, the fox continues moving closer and licks her palm. 

Concerned, I tell Tally, “I’ve never seen a fox do that before…what if it’s rabid?”

Tally ignores me. She strokes the fox’s head and it sits in front of her, pushing its head into her hand. Slowly, the other animals venture closer, wriggling their noses and pressing their furry bodies up against Tally. The cats purr and rub their heads against her legs, then move on to me. 

Tally picks up the fox and cradles it to her chest. “Raelle, look!”

I scratch the side of my head. A black cat with vivid green eyes weaves between my legs, purring like a lawnmower. 

A sharp voice pops the bubble of tranquility around us. 

“Raelle? Tally?” 

The animals startle but don’t bolt as a figure appears with a flashlight in each hand. “What--” Scylla squints at us behind her flashlights. “What the hell?” She looks at the collection of animals with disbelief. Scylla looks at the fox in Tally’s arms, then finally turns to me. 

“This is a very bad sign,” she says.

  
  



	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please don't kill me for taking so long to update...

“This place is creepy,” Tally whispers, her eyes on Scylla’s back as she leads us through the dim halls of what Scylla referred to as the “dungeon.” 

Dungeon is a fitting name for this compound, which so far has been damp, dour, and disappointing. 

“Talk about an understatement…” I dodge an unidentifiable puddle of dark liquid on the ground, wrinkling my nose at the acrid smell. Tally walks a little ways behind me, her steps hesitant. 

I can’t blame her--the dungeon smells like damp earth and death, like a disturbed grave. I tread carefully, allowing Tally to curl her fingers in my belt loops for support. 

Scylla, however, moves through the halls and corridors with ease, leaving me and Tally to trail behind her in the shadows. Tally’s hand nudges mine, and I interlace my fingers with hers. At once a small shock of anxiety sparks up my arm, sharp and quick as the prick of a needle. I squeeze Tally’s hand and turn my head, searching for her eyes in the dim light. 

As soon as we make eye contact, I stop walking. Squeeze her hand tighter. 

Tally’s genuinely scared--I can see the sheen of fear in her eyes, feel the steady stream of anxiety leak into me through our joined hands. 

“It’s okay, Tal. These Necros are all bark and no bite.” I move my other hand to the nape of Tally’s neck and pull her closer to me, press our foreheads together for the endless span of two, three, four heartbeats. 

“Just like Scylla,” I tease, turning my head to direct the words to our near-silent tour guide. Scylla laughs in the distance, but says nothing. 

Tally still seems unconvinced, so I whisper close to her ear, just for her: “No one will hurt you.”

After her ominous “this is a bad sign” performance from earlier, Scylla has remained quiet and moody. Instead of explaining what she meant, Scylla paced and grumbled to herself for a while, and then finally turned to me and Tally and said, “We need help.”

So to the dungeon we went, Scylla in the lead, with me and Tally flanked by several of the woodland creatures that we couldn’t manage to shake, no matter how aggressively I tried to shoo them away. 

Tally melts into my side, soaks in the sound of my words. Finally, she relaxes. 

“When you say it like that, how could I not believe it?”

I press back into her, adjust my hand on the back of her neck. “Believe it.” 

In the dim light, I can make out a deep furrow between Tally’s eyes. “What is it? Still scared?”

Tally stills. She looks at me with her luminous brown eyes. “Why did you do it?”

I stare, confused. “Do what?”

Tally shuffles her feet, looks down to the ground. “Scylla said that you took my emotions every single day.” Her voice wobbles, uncertain. “That must have been exhausting, taking everything bad I’ve ever felt like that. And dangerous! But I don’t understand. Nothing  _ that  _ terrible has happened to me? Raelle, you have more than your own fair share of pain. And your grief…” Tally shivers, possibly remembering the way my grief manifested in a fiery display on the first night we met. “You carry so much as it is. Why would you take mine too?” 

It’s a good question, one that I don’t have a good answer for. I squeeze the back of her neck, mulling over my reply. I sigh, unsure how to explain. 

“Well, it really was an accident that first time.”

Tally tilts her head, presses back into my hand. “How do you take someone’s emotions by accident?”

Another, heavier sigh escapes my lips. “It’s...more complicated than that.” I massage the back of her neck, remembering the first time I took Tally’s emotional pain. I wonder if that night has burned into her memory the same way it’s burned into mine. 

“That first night, when you had the nightmare? That was the first time. I don’t remember consciously making the decision to take that fear away from you. It just...happened. One second I was hugging you, and the next, I was siphoning your feelings.” I shrug. “It’s not a big deal.” 

Tally gasps. Her eyes widen in realization. “I haven’t had  _ any  _ nightmares since then,” she says slowly. “I  _ always  _ have nightmares.”

“I remember. You told me that while I pulled the fear from you.” 

Tally shakes her head, disbelieving. “I can’t believe I didn’t connect the dots…”

Unbidden, a smile takes over my face. “You really haven’t had any more nightmares?” 

“Not a single one.” Tally’s eyes grow impossibly bigger and wider. “Because of you.” 

I let out a relieved breath, kneading the back of her neck, lost in my own thoughts. “That means it’s been working.” 

Suddenly Tally goes completely quiet and still. 

Adrenaline floods my veins. 

I listen intently, thinking that Tally must have heard something that put her on alert. I hear nothing but the sound of my own breath, fast and shallow and uneven. I hear nothing else, the Necro dungeon seeming to be deserted at this time of night. 

The air around us smells of growing things, fragrant and strong in my nostrils. 

“Tally?”

For the second time tonight, I find myself with my back pressed against a cold stone wall, paralyzed by surprise as Tally Craven litters my neck with kisses. Tally is insistent—her hands grip my hips, holding me in place. She whimpers softly with each kiss, the sounds tearing through my ears and straight to my heart. 

“Idiot,” Tally says under her breath, pausing her ministrations just long enough to scold me. 

I groan, distracted by her lips once again. “What did I do this time?”

“Of course it’s a big deal!” Tally huffs, her lips warm and soft beneath my ear. She presses her body tight to mine. “You barely knew me, but you still took care of me, took my pain away and took it yourself. I didn’t even know it was happening.” Tally toys with the hem of my shirt, squeezing and releasing it between her fingers. She pulls at my belt. “I don’t know how to thank you for that.”

Her words cut through the haze in my brain brought on by her proximity. I shake my head and try to push her away. “Are you crazy? You really shouldn’t thank me. This whole thing is my fault. It’s my lack of self-control that got us into this mess.” I look to the ground, ashamed. “This...potentially  _ permanent _ mess. I am so sorry, Tal. I had no idea that anything like this could happen. I promise that I never would have done it if I thought there would be any side effects for you.” 

Tally backs up, her eyes locked on mine. “Please don’t say that. Don’t say that you’re sorry…” Tally grips my elbows in a vise-like hold. It hurts, but I don’t protest. “What you did, is absolutely the kindest thing anyone has ever done for me. And no matter what happens, I can’t be mad at you for just wanting to help me.” 

“You  _ should _ be mad! Because of me, we have no idea what’s happening to us, or when or if it will ever go away.” 

Tally’s voice drops to a whisper. “What if I don’t want it to go away?”

My eyes drop. “Tally, I don’t—“

“No!” Tally yells, much too loud, echoing through the dungeon with a mighty force. She seems to realize how loud she was, and checks her voice, then continues more calmly. 

“No. Don’t you dare say that you don’t want this too” Tally forces my chin up. I try to resist, but it’s useless. With us connected like this, trying to resist Tally is about as effective as telling the sun not to rise tomorrow. 

“I can  _ feel  _ your emotions, Raelle. I feel them like they’re my own. But it’s more than just that—my power, it’s like it’s been magnified by a hundred times.” Tally rests her cheek on my shoulder, looking like she’s on the verge of tears. “But it’s not just  _ my _ power. It’s yours. I can feel it, all of it. It...whispers to me. The things we could do together...we’d be an unstoppable team. The military could use this kind of power, Raelle. We can’t just throw it away.” 

I turn my face away and close my eyes. 

Her words sting, and I don’t want to think about why. 

A sharp voice interrupts us. 

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing here?”

Tally startles. She turns around, and we both confront the owner of the voice. 

The girl in front of us is shorter than me, though no less intimidating for it, with piercing dark eyes and long wavy hair dyed the color of moonlight. She wears a white coat and pants, intense purple eyeshadow, and a scathing look on her face. 

“Well?” she prompts. 

Anger rises in my gut at the condescending tone in her voice. I push off the wall and face her squarely, one hand already wrapped around the small hunting knife in my pocket. 

Before I can snap back at the rude Necro, Tally places her hand gently on my wrist, making sure to reach under my jacket sleeve to make skin-to-skin contact. This time, instead of the flood of calm that I was expecting, I receive a different kind of message from Tally’s touch. 

Not an emotion, but maybe...a word? I’m not sure, but I think that the word she sends to me is  _ wait _ . 

Tally’s fingers on my wrist make me pause, and in that hesitation Tally straightens her jacket and smiles politely at the horrible girl. “We’re here on official military business actually. And our business is quite time-sensitive. So if you’ll excuse us, we’ll just be on our way--”

The girl interrupts coldy. “How did you even get in here? The door won’t open for anyone but a Necro.” Her eyes narrow. “Spree agents, perhaps?” 

I see the girl’s eyes catch on the ground near our feet, where our animal hangers-on still gather. Before I can say something to pull her gaze back to me, a new voice sounds from behind us. 

We all turn to look, and see a formidable woman standing with her arms crossed at the end of the hall, her face blank and unreadable. When she speaks, her voice is quiet but commanding. 

“I allowed them entrance, child. In fact, I invited them here personally to assist me in a special project.” The woman’s voice grows even more stern. “Did you have a problem with that, Valerie?”

The white-haired girl deflates like a popped balloon. Instantly, her face softens to reflect wariness, deference, and no small amount of fear. “No ma’am, not at all. I trust your judgment fully, of course.” 

The older woman brushes her hands off and turns away from Valerie, an obvious dismissal. 

Still, the girl’s eyes linger on me and Tally, and she takes her time slinking away into the shadows. Her hair glows in the distance, the last part of her that is visible before she disappears, as quickly and silently as she arrived. 

The older woman rolls her eyes in the direction of the girl’s retreating form. “Valerie Stapleton. The most insufferable witch under my command, certainly.” 

“After me, of course.”

Scylla appears behind the woman, looking relaxed and not the least bit concerned. “If you ask Quartermaine, I’m sure she’d say I’m the most insufferable witch in all of Fort Salem.”

Scylla turns to me and Tally, her eyes glittering. “Ladies, may I present Izadora Burr, my most favorite teacher, mentor, partner in crime.”

Izadora doesn’t look at Scylla, but it’s obvious her words are for her. “I stand corrected.”

Her eyes lower to the ground at Tally’s feet, taking in the small assortment of mammals that congregate there. Their little furry faces are difficult to see in the dim light, but their eyes glow like torches, impossible to miss. 

Izadora turns her hawk-like focus on me.

“Raelle Collar.” Izadora sweeps her eyes over me, and I realize belatedly that my belt is still undone from yet another interrupted attempt by Tally to remove it. I buckle it back up, never moving my eyes from the keen-eyed woman. 

“And Tally Craven.” Izadora studies Tally extra hard, making me grind my teeth. I step deliberately in front of Tally, hackles raised. I speak to Scylla, looking past the unfamiliar woman to catch her gaze. 

“What’s going on, Scyl? What are we doing here?”

Izadora tilts her head, dark eyes like laser beams watching my every move. 

“What a mess you girls have gotten yourselves into.” She turns on her heel and strides down the hall towards a long winding staircase. “Quickly now, better to get to my office before any more prying eyes catch sight of you.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed and thank you so much for reading. Find me on tumblr @likethefoximalwayschanging for more MFS content, including visual essays, theories, Biblical ramblings, and more.


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